Sibling Rivalry
by Unhobbity Hobbit
Summary: John's devised a new and weird way of training. Dean isn't too happy with it. Wee!Chesters.


A/N: Who can resist wee!Chesters dressing up? Certainly not me!

Sibling Rivalry  


Dean is trying so hard, he really is, it might not look like it, but that's really the point isn't it? If you're trying to not look interested, it's no good if you _look_ like you're trying to not look interested. It's not like Dean can just not do it either, because Dad asked him to and, well, _Dad_ asked him to, there isn't really another reason. The trouble is, it's just such a _lame_ thing to be doing. He knows it is, he _does_. So why does his heart give a little leap every time Dad says "good work"? It's not like he actually cares, is it?

Really, the only reason Dad is doing this is because he helped out the old lady with the costume store. She was annoying; she kept giving Sammy candy and pinching Dean's cheeks, which Dean wouldn't have minded if he'd got some candy too. At least then having a sugar-rushing Sammy next to him in the car wouldn't have been quite so bad. Anyway, the old lady said Dad could take any costume 'cause that was all she had to give and Dean was all ready to get out of there quick before she could have another go at his cheeks when Dad said yes.

Sammy was all excited and picking out costumes left, right and centre. Dean wasn't; he stood by the door waiting for Dad to snap out of it. Except that Dad hadn't and he asked for Dean's help carrying all the costumes. Just carrying, not choosing, Dad wouldn't let him have the clown costume, which was just great, he couldn't have some of his own fun with costumes? The ones Dad were picking were just boring, like a pair of suits? Dean noted one was in his size and the other in Sammy's. In fact, Dad was getting two of each outfit. Dad had another thing coming if he thought that Dean would agree to dressing up the same as Sammy. Heck, he had another thing coming if he thought Dean was going to agree to dress up.

Except that he actually had agreed. Dean didn't really know how that had happened, but Dad had managed to slip it by him like it was some kind of training. When were they going to dress up to get a job done? And who the hell would believe a thirteen-year-old is a firefighter anyway? There are so many problems with the plan that Dean's surprised Dad even came up with it. He half suspects that Dad's just doing it so he can laugh at Dean and Sam all dressed up, except that Dad wouldn't do something like that, would he?

"Sammy, that's cheating," says Dean and Sam curls an arm around his paper, blocking it from view. Dean rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair because he doesn't care if Sammy copies him, he really doesn't. Even if he is actually trying to come up with good ideas. Anyway, Sam's just sticking 'FBI' as an answer every time, and he looks pleased with himself, too. Sammy is _such_ a moron.

"You boys done?" asks Dad and they both answer that they're not. Dean knows that he's not ready because he's actually trying to think of good answers (and God, how sad is it that he's trying harder than his nine-year-old brother?) but he has no clue why Sam's not done. He forget how to spell FBI or something?

"I'm done!" Sam proclaims proudly, smiling smugly and Dean glares at him because he's totally doing it just to show him up in front of Dad because Dad's always saying how being quick is important.

"Good boy. Come here and show me." Sam slips off his chair and takes his paper over to Dad. Dean turns back to his own paper. He's been trying to think of a good answer to this last situation that isn't 'FBI', but he can't think of one. Screw it, he'll just put 'FBI', who cares if Sammy thinks he was copying? He picks up his paper and goes and shows it to Dad. Dad compares their answers, smiling to himself, and that just makes Dean think that it really is all one big, elaborate joke.

"Right then, there's a building full of people and you need 'em out of the way so you can deal with this demon undisturbed. Go get yourselves ready." Sammy grabs his suit and hurries into the bathroom to get ready. Dean stays behind and Dad raises an eyebrow at him.

"Are you sure you're not joking about this?"

"I never joke about the hunt, Dean," Dad replies. It's a completely expected reply, because he doesn't. Joke, that is, like, ever. Dad then turns him around and pushes him towards the bed where all the clothes are laid out. Dean picks up his choice and makes his way to the bathroom.

Sammy's already tucking his shirt into his pants when Dean gets in there. Dean's costume is a bit too big, so he can pull it on over his clothes, which is good because he really can't be bothered to take his jeans off. Sam's got his jacket half on and he holds his tie out for Dean to do up. Dean sighs and rolls his eyes and does everything to look put out, but then does Sammy's tie for him anyway. In return, Sammy hands Dean's hat to him, well helmet, technically. Either way Dean really wishes it didn't complete the outfit.

"You ready?" says Sammy, flattening down his jacket. Perhaps Dean can take some pride in not being quite so excited about the whole dressing up thing. God knows he needs to have something to take pride in because everything else about this little scenario? Not an ounce of pride there at all. He's pretty damn disappointed in himself, in fact. What self-respecting thirteen-year-old agrees to play dressing up games with his dad and baby brother? Because that's basically what this is.

Even though Dean would usually be glad to be different from other thirteen-year-olds. The rest of them are idiots, really, don't know what they've got. They don't know what's out there, either, they don't know how to protect themselves or anything, so Dean's pretty glad he's not like other thirteen-year-olds. But they have got a point when it comes to playing dress up games. Dressing up is totally for nine-year-olds. And girls.

Dean nods reluctantly and Sammy grins as he struts out of the bathroom, looking for all the world like he's going to some lame dance. They stand in front of Dad, Sammy's looking very serious and stern, getting _in character_ or something stupid like that. Dean just wishes he had pockets to put his hands in; it would make looking like he doesn't want to be here so much easier.

"You're not a very convincing fireman there, Dean," says Dad. God, he's wearing the costume, what more does Dad want? "Look like you're proud of what you do." Proud? Proud of being stuck in a dodgy motel room playing dress up games? Proud's really not the word. But then there's Sammy looking so _pleased_ that Dean's being picked at and Dean stands up straight and holds his head high. Dad nods and Dean glances at Sam, and is glad to see he'd not looking nearly so pleased. "Ok, Sammy, you first." Sam nods curtly and walks purposefully towards the door then turns and stops, straightens his jacket, loosens up his shoulders and _Jesus Christ_ they're going to be here all day. Well, they're going to be here all day anyway, but less time spent in the fireman outfit the better, really.

Dean sits down on the clear bed. Now that Dad's not looking at him, he can look as moody as he wants, arms crossed and everything.

Sam strides forward, even pausing to push an invisible door open and up to Dad, who looks up from his imaginary desk. Dean was adopted. No way does he share blood with these people.

"Good afternoon, sir," says Dad. Sam reaches into his pocket, pulls out a piece of paper and shows it to Dad. Dean cranes his neck as surreptitiously as possible to get a better look. It's a fake ID, or at least, the closest to a fake ID you can get with a pen and paper. Damn, Sammy really had thought about this. Dean didn't feel quite so bad about trying, now.

"FBI," says Sammy, tucking the paper back into his pocket, "Agent Sammy Winchester," and yeah, okay, so you're not going to find many FBI agents that introduce themselves as 'Agent Sammy' but he's got everything else down pretty good. "We've got a situation on the third floor and we need everybody evacuated immediately." Where exactly did Sammy learn all those long words? Normally Dean would call him a dork right about now, but the words really fit and Dad had even come out of character a bit and smiled. Dammit, at this rate Sammy's going to win!

"Well, gosh, sir, what kind of a situation you got up there?" says Dad and Sammy looks a bit put off because Dad's never sounded quite like that before, but he pulls himself together again, frowns and speaks in a surprisingly commanding voice.

"That's classified information." Dean snorts, because Sammy just crossed the line from 'FBI agent' back into 'dork'. Sam glares at him and Dad shoots him a disapproving look. Dean clams up pretty quick; getting further into Dad's bad books isn't going to help him win.

"Well, okay, sir, I'll get right on that." Then Dad actually gets up and goes into the bathroom as if that's the rest of their imaginary building or something and Dean immediately switches from caring about winning to sitting in quiet disbelief that this is actually happening and that he's participating. Then Dad comes back in, claps Sammy on the shoulder and says "Well done," and Dean slips right back into wanting to win.

Dean gets up for his go and Sammy takes his place on the bed. Dean suddenly feels incredibly stupid, because he hasn't really got any acting to do; his scenario was pretty much act-free.

"Go on, then," Dad urges.

"I wouldn't do this bit dressed like a fireman, obviously, but I'd set off the fire alarm first." Dad raises his eyebrows like he wants to see Dean set off a fire alarm. "Dad, I can set off a fire alarm." He can, he managed it twice in the same day at school once and no one suspected him. Well, they did suspect him, but they didn't have any actual proof that it was him, just that he was in the right corridor, along with about a hundred other students.

"Can't hurt to show me, though, can it?" Dean gives Dad his best 'are you serious?' face, which is pointless, because of course Dad's serious. Dean sighs and makes a big show of looking around the room for anyone who might see him set off the alarm, then briskly walks past the point on the wall he's decided is an alarm and hits it.

"Okay, so now I've set off the alarm, I wait for the fire department," he moves over to the door to wait, throws in a look at his imaginary watch to show the passing of time and then moves in when the fire department arrives (well, really when he gets bored of waiting, but Dad doesn't need to know that). He stops moving in when he runs out of room to move into. "And then I go sort out the demon while everyone else is out of the building." Dad nods.

"Sit down," he says, pointing to the bed. Dean goes and sits next to Sam.

"Did I win, Dad? Did I?" Sammy's bouncing with excitement, which is annoying because it's making the whole bed bounce.

"Patience, Sammy," says Dad. Telling Sammy to be patient is like telling an annoying fly to shut up. In fact, it's like telling Sammy to shut up. It's like telling Sammy to do anything that isn't read. Geek. "It's a hard choice, boys. They're both good ideas, but evacuating the building like that could take a while, Sammy, and impersonating an FBI agent isn't something you'd want to get caught doing." Dean doesn't even try to hide his smile. "Dean, any element of surprise would be gone, which could make the job a whole lot harder."

"Yes, sir," both boys answer.

"Right, now, go get ready for the next one."

"I'm already ready!" Sammy declares in an infuriatingly superior way. Dean throws off his fire fighter costume as quick as possible. Good thing he doesn't need a costume for this one. Less costumes the better. Dad never uses any; why should he?

The next situation is investigating something in the sewer. By the time that's over and done with, Dean decides that if he ever has to act at climbing out of a manhole cover again, it'll be too soon. Dad sits them down again and gives them a little talk about the pros and cons – mostly the cons – of their ideas. He doesn't give any indication of who won the round, though. Dean thinks he won that round because, really, what would the FBI be doing in a sewer?

Now they're supposed be getting into a bank. Dean's opted for the repairman route. Dean's starting to see the attraction of being FBI every time. Sammy's just got to keep doing the 'Agent Sammy Winchester' line. He's getting better at it too, and flipping out his ID and stuff. Dean hopes Dad's going for originality, because he's really not going to try hard with the acting. He couldn't really live with himself if he did. There's trying and then there's _trying_. Dean can just about manage the first kind, but actually _trying_ would be far too much like what Sammy's doing.

Dad does his little speech again and Dean thinks maybe he might've lost that one. Being FBI means Sammy can get help from the staff. Dean kinda wishes he'd thought of it that way.

The morgue situation Dean knows he's won before they've even started. FBI stands out way too much; no one's going to notice another doctor. So what if his acting's a little smug? You get smug doctors!

They finally get to the last situation. Dean's relieved and just wants to get it over with. That's all he wants. No, who's he kidding? He wants to win, too. He's gotta be good this time as well, because they're both FBI and Sammy's got his ID and has had all that practice and Dean's got... not much, really.

Dean suddenly gets an idea and hauls Sammy into the bathroom along with the suit he's got to change into (whoever it is that says FBI agents have to wear suits suck. Really, really suck). He starts pulling on the pants and looks up to find Sammy straightening his tie. God, if Sammy could stop distracting him with his complete and utter lameness, that would be great.

"Sammy, we should be partners." Sammy screws up his nose. "I mean it! FBI agents always have partners! It'll look better." Dean watches the realisation dawn on Sam. "And we're going to go hunting together, when we grow up, so it'll be better practice!" There's a small smile on Sam's face, which quickly grows to a big grin when he realises it's the awesomest plan ever, which, well, duh, _Dean_ thought of it.

"You're going to need ID too!" Sammy declares and pulls a pen out of his inside pocket and rips some spare paper off of his own ID. Dean leaves it to Sam while he struggles into his shirt and tie. Ties were invented by the Devil, Dean's sure of it, and suits were almost certainly created by one of his minions. Damn things, they've never looked right on him, the few times he's had to wear one.

Sam hands Dean his ID and Dean studies it. It's not as neat as Sammy's own, but he appreciates the effort. Sammy pulls the creases out of Dean's jacket. "Ready?" Sammy asks. Dean just gives him a look, because he's the big brother here and he doesn't need Sammy fussing over him.

"C'mon, let's go." Dean pushes Sam ahead of him out of the bathroom and both of them stop and stare. Dad's wearing a police officer's cap. It's really, really weird.

"What can I do for you?" he says and the jolts Dean into action.

"Hi," he says, and cringes, but quickly moves on, "We're FBI, conducting a very important investigation and we'd love it if we had your cooperation." Sammy makes this agent thing look easier than it is.

"Well, of course, agent...?"

"I'm Agent Winchester and this is my partner, Agent..." he falters, realising at the last moment that brothers working together is actually quite weird, "... Osbourne," is the first name his mind provides. Dad lets out a snort of laughter before quickly getting back in character and Dean has to fight to keep the smile off his face.

Instead, he and Sammy step forward and pull out their IDs, showing them to Dad. He looks them over quickly.

"What can I do to help?" says Dad. This time, Sammy takes the lead.

"If you could show us to your records, we should be able to take it from there." Dean glances down at Sammy. He's scary good sometimes.

"Right this way," says Dad, then he takes the hat off and grins at them. "Excellent, boys!" Dean feels fit to burst with pride and Sam looks about the same.

"Who won, Dad? Who won?" Dad considers them both for a moment.

"It was a draw." There's a second of silence before Sammy decides what he thinks of that.

"Hey, Dean, we both won!" but Dean's not having any of it. He tried hard, dammit.

"A draw? That's lame!" Dad looks at him with raised eyebrows.

"Okay then," he says, and Dean knows pretty much immediately that he should have kept his mouth shut. "Sammy won." Sammy squeals with delight and starts this dorky dance thing.

"I won, I won, I won!" he shouts at the top of his voice. Dean frowns and shoves Sammy away. But he's not bothered. He didn't _really_ care about winning. Really.

The End.

Hope you all had fun.


End file.
